


Vader

by OrbeaVariegata



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Gen, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Post-Star Wars: Return of the Jedi, WIP, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 12:10:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15048734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrbeaVariegata/pseuds/OrbeaVariegata
Summary: A series on events for Darth Vader





	1. Vader pt. 1

_This is Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. I regret to report that both our Jedi Order and the Republic, have fallen with a dark shadow of the Empire rising to take their place. This message is a warning and a reminder for any surviving Jedi. Trust in The Force. Do not return to the Temple…that time has past. And our future is uncertain. We will each be challenged. Our trust. Our faith. Our friendships. But we must persevere. And in time, a new hope will emerge. May the Force be with you, always. This is Ma-_

Vader put the recording to a halt with a flicker of his finger before it could start over again. It had bothered him for years now, this little roll of words, spoken with- was it composure?

_-Wan Kenobi. I regret to report that both our Jedi Order and the Republic, have fallen with a dark shadow of the Empire rising-_

No, not composure. Listening more carefully again, Vader could clearly sense the currents underneath his old Master’s calm words. Grief, forlornness, and no little sense of personal betrayal.

Vader tutted at himself, flicking the recording off again and turning around in his seat. The Executor was bound towards the Mid Rim, and Vader had duties to attend to. And yet. He turned around, his suit slightly creaking at the seams. He looked back at the monitor, for a split second wishing he could still get ahold of the hologram that had accompanied Obi-Wan’s little parting message from the Temple on Coruscant.

It had taken his men days and weeks to find the original source of the recording, hidden expertly within the Temple archives and broadcasting into the void until someone chose to tune into the old Coruscanti transmission waves. Vader’d let his men rip the whole transmission unit out of the system and had turned his back – until someone reported another transmission source, again coming from the Temple.

Vader chuckled under his breath. No matter how often he had sent his men to obliterate every last trace of his old Master, the transmission just popped up again, warning any remaining Jedi (if there were any left) against returning to their old homestead. He could only bow down to his old Master’s cunning, and to his technical skill which he, in his own pride, had not anticipated. Even though the holographic image that had been part of the recording had now vanished, “Master Obi-Wan Kenobi”’s premonitions still reached out to anyone who would listen.

And Vader listened. More eagerly than he was willing to admit to himself.

_-future is uncertain. We will each be challenged. Our trust. Our fa-_

He could not count how many times he had sat alone, listening to those words, listening to that voice. It had followed him everywhere. On the navigation bridge of the Executor, in the middle of Rebellion fights, it had visited him in the elusive safety of his bacta tank.

_This is Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. I regret-_

_This is Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. I regret-_

_This is Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. I regret-_

Yes. Sometimes Vader could hear that regret, starkly contrasted to the apparent calmness in his old Master’s voice, eager to crackle the mere surface of their composure. Other times the words mocked him, speaking only of falsehood.

_We will each be challenged. Our trust. Our faith. Our friendships._

Ludicrous. What friendship had his old Master afforded him? Indeed, what friendship had the Jedi afforded him, ever? Yes. He would challenge them each, should they choose to oppose him. He would challenge their trust. And he would damn well challenge their friendships. His animatronic hand balled into a fist, ready to strike out against the speakers, but he let it fall to his side again, slowly sinking back into his chair.

_-both our Jedi Order and the Republic, have fallen with a dark shadow of the Empire rising to take their place._

Yes. He knew exactly the dark shadow his old Master was speaking of. He knew it, intimately.

Here, the sadness in his old Master’s voice was striking, almost credible to Vader’s ears. His loyalty ever was to the Republic. To democracy. To peace- it almost made Vader laugh, thinking about it now. The Jedi had been resigning their commitment to peace for years and years before this so-called shadow had annihilated the Republic. They had become soldiers instead of preserving peace. In their eyes it was Pax Republica, peace only if you joined their side and abided by their rules.

_But we must persevere. And in time, a new hope will emerge._

Funny how every time Vader listened to the recording, it seemed to change ever so slightly. When one time it seemed to be infused by utter sadness, the next time it sounded like mockery to his ears. - _we must persevere-_ When once his old Master sounded bent double with grief, another time every word seemed to be shouted in utter defiance. - _in time, a new hope will emerge-_ What were these words if not pure derision. What was this hope he spoke of. Vader had already lost track on how many loudspeakers he’d already smashed upon the thought that somewhere, somewhere, his old Master was laughing at how futile his search for him really was.

_Trust in The Force. Do not return to the Temple._

Where was his old Master now, Vader mused, his chin against the outline of his palm. He had indeed never returned to the temple, or to Coruscant. Nor had he come to Naboo. He had not been seen by any of their spies, had not been ratted out by sympathizers or opportunists eager to please the new Emperor. He had simply gone, leaving behind nothing but a few footsteps in the ashes on Mustafar. One last look back on the burning mass on the ground, and that was it. Only his voice remained, playing over and over in Vader’s head.

_This is Master Obi-Wan Kenobi._

_This is Master Obi-Wan Kenobi._

_This is Master Obi-Wan Kenobi._

_This is Master Obi-Wan Kenobi._

_This is-_

_You were my brother, Anakin. I loved you._


	2. Vader pt. 2

He drew closer, reluctantly, feeling his heavy boots crush the loose gravel beneath his feet with every step. His breath caught in his throat, hitting a barrier that was nearly unbreachable. Somewhere above, the last pieces of broken equipment were crashing in upon themselves. Agonized metallic screeches. Then, silence.

The figure lay still even as the debris kept falling in a constant gush, settling on the hems of his sleeves, the space between the limp fingers, gathering on his eyelashes. He stared down at the prostrate body, limbs splayed like the rays of light stretching out from a distant star. His tunics were in disarray, with his collar almost opening down to the hem of his girdle, exposing the white shirt, apparently ripped to mere shreds by the impact. The trousers were in pieces as well, his legs wide apart in an almost lazy, inviting way, one leg bent at the knee, one boot missing from a foot.

Walking around the unstirring man, he kicked the remains of his weapon out of his inert hands and into a faraway corner.

The light of his blade now illuminated the man’s still face. A cut on his cheekbone resulted in a red puddle beneath his chin, barely visible now under layers and layers of dust. Another stream tickled from his mouth into his reddish beard, reappearing down the outlines of his throat. His mouth was open, almost in surprise.

The fine features were still the way he remembered them, all even and gentle, even while darkened by bruises and tainted with injuries. His head was tilted back, almost in pleading, exposing his throat like unsuspecting game.

At last, the debris settled. He turned the blade sideways, bringing it close to the man’s face as the ship’s emergency generators finally caught up, illuminating the pit from above.

The abrupt light made him blink, then look down again. The man’s eyes, a gaze turned nowhere, coated in dust, suddenly flashed up and caught his own unexpectedly. With the red blaze of his saber unable to diminish its’ greenish hue, they were looking into his very soul.

∞

With a start Vader snapped himself awake, his iron lungs refusing to yield to the catch deep in his throat, forcing a steady rhythm that he could only succumb to. As he moved his arm to wipe the sweat off his forehead, his hand met the cold steel of his helmet. He groaned, the sound both muffled and amplified through his respiratory mask.

Another visitation of his old friend, he mused as he straightened himself up in his seat. He wondered, his hands balling into tight fists, if one of his visions might one day come true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted on tumblr: https://abagginsandatook.tumblr.com/post/155254731524/vader-pt-2-of

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted on my fandom side blog: https://abagginsandatook.tumblr.com/post/155254659329/vader-pt-1-of


End file.
